Peaklass Christmas Cards
Send out a little Peak District moment to your nearest and dearest at Christmas, with my beautiful winter greetings cards. They all feature my own photographs captured throughout the Peak District, when the woods are sparkling with snow and the hills are blanketed with soft white.
All my cards are blank inside for your own message. They’re square, 6 x 6″ (15 x 15cm), printed in vibrant colours on very high quality card stock and supplied with an envelope. They arrive with you in a compostable cellophane bag to keep them clean in transit.
Sorry, UK shipping only. Please note that all my orders are processed through a small, rural, village Post Office to help keep them open and viable, so please allow 7-10 days for despatch and delivery. Thank you.
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These beautiful woods are above the pretty Peak District village of Hathersage, approached by a narrow path up a hill. Walking through that little gate is like entering a different world. In Spring they're full of bluebells, in Summer the birds sing crazily in the beech trees, in Autumn they're a riot of colour ... and in Winter, well, they're magical. The snow falls so softly amid the ancient trees and the whole place is silent and sparkling.
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Deep in the quiet pine woods covered in snow, standing alone and almost hidden among its lofty proud neighbours, I spotted this perfect little Christmas tree, its branches dusted with snowflakes like icing sugar.
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This is one of my favourite spots in the Peak District, a quiet, tree-lined lane above the villages of Hathersage and Grindleford. After a fresh fall of snow it looked wonderful with its parade of small bright beech trees adding colour to the winter whiteness.
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You'll find these wonderful old wrought iron gates at Haddon Hall, one of the most beautiful and important historic houses in England. Even better, they lead into its Medieval Park, a true Secret Garden, untouched by man for nearly a millennium, where Nature has been left to her own perfect devices. To stand here and gaze through the gates as the snow drifted softly and silently down was one of the most magical winter moments I can remember.
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I spotted this little rural scene in the hills above Eyam in the Peak District. The sheep were very happily munching on their hay and were beautifully lit by the low winter sun as it streamed across the snow-covered fields. I love looking at all the different characters of the sheep - the two on the right standing aloof and evidently not feeling very hungry, and the one laying down just below them, who I swear has a smile on her face. Obviously she'd managed to get in there first and had maybe had more than her fair share!
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Flash is the highest village in England, and this old postbox must have seen some windy days by its wonky angle. It looked so perfect against the lovely old church in the falling snow - a timeless English country scene.
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These are the stretching White Peak fields as seen from the little hamlet of Bretton, that perfect gate in the old stone wall opening onto a world of frosty light, patchwork fields and glowing trees in the early morning sun.
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This was such a beautiful morning in Padley Gorge in the depths of a snowy Winter, standing amid the falling flakes and watching as they picked out the stones in the old wall and contoured every bough and branch of those tall, tall beeches.
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This little robin was singing his heart out in a frosted tree in Bakewell, fluffing up his feathers to stay warm and to do his very best impression of a round Christmas bauble.
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This entirely natural heart-shaped hole lies at the very bottom of a beautiful old beech tree in Padley Gorge, where the tree has weathered centuries of winters and seen generations come and go. I love to visit the 'heart tree' in all seasons, and it looked perfect in the falling snow.
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"When snow falls ... nature listens." There's something so perfect about winter trees. Stripped of leaves, with every twig exposed, you can really see their intricate beauty. For an extra dose of magic, add in gently falling snow, silently piling up along the branches.
